


sunburn in my eyes (i've been looking up)

by shxrogane (minsazucar)



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Character Study, Desert Keith week, Gen, Getting Together, Keith (Voltron)-centric, Mild Angst, Pre-Canon, Pre-Relationship, coping with loss, just Keith being Keith...yknow, post s6 chapter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-02
Updated: 2018-07-08
Packaged: 2019-05-26 14:37:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 16,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15002966
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/minsazucar/pseuds/shxrogane
Summary: Another thing people don’t often understand: the desert is a wild and unpredictable place. One minute it could be a beautiful, sunny day, and the next moment it’s caught in a downpour.Keith felt like maybe there was a desert living inside him.•••A collection of Keith’s time alone in the desert.





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 1: Provisions

Water.

The first lucid thought in days comes as a wave of relief, followed by the cold realization that he is wholly unprepared.

Careless. How could he be so careless?

Keith isn’t one to be so… so foolish. To take off into the desert, with nothing but clothes and books. No plans for food, for water; what had he been thinking?

Well. No use beating himself up about it now. 

With a weary sigh, Keith peels himself off the small cot and takes stock. He’s hungry and thirsty and empty in a way he’s never felt, but he is alive. The shack is just as empty as always. There are books strewn about, the coffee table flipped over against a wall. But everything seems intact.

He stands, bone and muscle straining from disuse, and pulls back the window curtain. How many days has he been here? He’s a little worried that he can’t quite recall. But, thankfully, he knows what he has to do next

In another hour or so, the sun will finish sinking into the horizon, and then Keith would make his move. For now, Keith settles on trying to clean himself up as much as possible. Which basically means changing his shirt and combing his hair back into a ponytail.

The shack he once called home is in horrible shape. Red sand covers everything in a fine layer of dust. There’s no running water, no electricity. But it had been a roof over his head once, and it would be so again. After all, he has nowhere else to go.

He doesn’t have time to dwell on that. 

The sun has set and it is a clear, moonless night. Keith shrugs on his jacket as he makes his way towards his hoverbike. Along with the poor excuse of a shack, this bike was the only thing of value his dad had left behind. Keith cared for it as much as he could, keeping it in near pristine condition. It was easier when he was at the Garrison, since he’d finally had a garage to keep it in, with tools and resources. But now… 

With a rev and cloud of dust, Keith speeds off into the night. The nearest town is miles away, but he uses the long drive to clear his head of any remaining haziness. If his sense of time isn’t completely fucked, then it’s most likely a Tuesday or Wednesday. All Garrison personnel should be on base, so the town should be safe. Not that the Garrison would be looking for him or anything, but he’d rather not see another uniform anytime soon.

Memories of the last few weeks still burn behind his eyelids, too much potential still to blind him, so he shoves them back. Back and back, to be dealt with later or never, he doesn’t care.

Keith leaves the bike parked by a boulder, about half a mile away from town, and heads the rest of the way in on foot. Best not to draw attention. He hopes, maybe a bit naively, that without the bike and without the uniform, without… that on his own, people won’t recognize him. And if they don’t recognize him, then they can’t ask questions; questions that he still can’t answer.

He knows he has enough money in the bank, but he still only buys the bare minimum. A couple gallons of water, some canned food. A cheap fan to keep him cool until he can build something permanent. That’s what this is about, getting what he needs to survive, so he can prepare for the permanent. This is his life now.

For a brief moment, Keith considers going to a different town and completely withdrawing the meager savings he has. If he deals in cash, then he won’t leave any sort of trail. Then he remembers, no one is looking for him. He’s just another kid that washed out of the system, that’s all. He doesn’t have a connection to anything anymore. The thought leaves a bitter taste, but it’s oddly reassuring in this moment. 

Maybe all he needs is to be alone.

He makes his way through town, arms heavy with supplies. He passes a hardware store, already closed for the night, and makes a mental note. 

Tomorrow, he’ll start fresh. Conduct a full sweep of his desert shack, make a list of repairs, come back for more supplies, and then get to work. He can’t hope to live in the shack the way it is. He has a _lot_ of work ahead of him. The thought is oddly comforting.

As long as he keeps moving, he’ll be okay. Everything will be okay.

 

 

Water is still the first thought on his mind when he wakes the next morning. The water he bought last night will last him a couple days, if he rations it right. But he can’t be making weekly water trips for the rest of his life. He remembers, remembers back when he was a kid, running around the endless desert of his front yard, his dad chasing him with a water hose as far as he could reach.

A quick inspection of the shack proves that, yes, it was definitely equipped with a plumbing system, as well as electrical. The trick was going to be in making it work again. 

The task of inspecting every inch of piping through the house, checking out the well tank, and surveying the aquifer… well, Keith isn’t surprised when he pops out from the storage tank room and finds that the sun is almost fully set. He doesn’t want to call it a night, not yet. But he only has one flashlight that he found earlier, and no replacement batteries. The moon doesn’t rise until late in the night, so he can’t work by moonlight. 

With a weary sigh, Keith rises and dusts his clothes off. He frowns. He only has a few pieces of clean clothing left. He’ll change before heading into town tomorrow, but then he _has_ to get the water working. He needs a shower, bad. 

Dinner that night is a can of cold ravioli. He grimaces after the first bite and contemplates lighting a fire to heat it up. It’s not worth the trouble really. But definitely after he fixes the water, Keith needs electricity. 

 

 

He doesn’t really think about it, the next day. Keith heads into town in the late morning, fully focused on the mission ahead. Meaning, his mind is occupied with the mental list of all the supplies needed to get his water system working. Last night’s worries with being recognized are put on the back burner.

But of course, it’s always when you’re least expecting it. _Of course_. 

He’s not paying attention, all his focus on making sure he has all he needs rather than where he’s going. So no, he doesn't think to look at who’s at the register. The thought to check didn’t cross his mind until it was too late. 

“Oh, Keith! Hi.”

His head snaps up at the familiar voice. 

“Hey, Mira.”

He fights not to frown as he greets the woman. Mira is a mild lady in her mid-40s. She’s married to the owner of this hardware store and has always been so kind to him. To him and to…

“It’s so good to see you Keith. How’re you doing dear?”

Her voice is so sincere, the soft brown of her eyes shining with questions. Keith clenches his fists. This is the exact interaction he wanted to avoid. 

_Eyes forward, cadet. Answer me clearly._

It’s through grit teeth and an iron will that he responds. 

“Fine. I’m fine.”

He loads more of his items on the conveyor belt, as if that could end the conversation before it begins. It doesn’t, of course, but at least it gives him something to do while Mira keeps talking. 

“Oh honey, I know you can’t be just fine. It was a horrible thing that happened, downright awful.”

_Cadet, you’re slipping. Reel it in. Now._

He looks up. She’s waiting for a response. He gives a tight nod and reaches for his wallet. 

“What’s all this for anyhow, Keith? New school project?”

“No.”

And she looks at him so earnestly, he almost continues. Almost lets it all spill from his throat, lets himself tell someone, _anyone_ , about everything rumbling just below his rib cage. 

“How much is this all, Mira?” Is what he asks instead, waiting for her to finish ringing him up.

“Oh, right. I’m taking off your usual discount honey.” 

She gives him a total and he pays. 

“Don’t be a stranger Keith. You know I always loved when you and Shiro would stop by. It’s so sad, what happened. After all that, to say pilot error…”

Keith doesn’t hear the rest of it. He just walks away.

_Walk away, cadet. That’s an order._

It’s not until he’s on the hoverbike, hands tight on the handles, that he realizes he’s shaking.

He’s _angry_. But then again, Keith has always been angry. All this anger, and look where it’s gotten him. 

He heads home. 

 

 

Keith hangs out on his porch later that night, when he’s finished work for the day and decides he can’t sleep just yet. While repairing the pipes and ransacking his dad’s old tools, he’d found a box of cigarettes. Funny, he can’t remember ever seeing his dad smoke, but the smell always lingered in the house anyways, soaked into his clothes.

He studies the box and sighs.

“After all that trouble you went through, and I _still_ got booted from the Garrison.”

His voice is a soft rasp in the night, lost under the cold light of the stars.

If he were being technical--which he wasn’t, there was no point--he’d _left_ the Garrison before they could formally expel him. But the result was the same.

He always knew his temper would get the best of him, eventually. He didn’t imagine it would go quite this way, but he’s stopped trying to predict where his life will lead. Best not to get his hopes up, only to be disappointed.

Keith leans forward on the porch rail, reaches a hand up to block out the countless stars. Closes it into a fist, watches the veins strain against the bruised skin. He’s actually surprised that after so many days, the knuckles are still bruised. He’s always been a quick healer for some reason. He must’ve done more damage than he thought.

Not surprising, considering he’s done his best to block the memories. Until now. He unclenches his fist and slumps against the railing. The minute he opens his mind, it all comes rushing in. A flood he couldn’t hope to hold at bay for too long. Best to be washed away sooner rather than later.

 

 _It’s been weeks now,_ weeks _since the crew was reported missing. Since they were… since Shiro was… Keith keeps his head down and makes his way through the hall. It’s been weeks, and although the whispers are quieter, they’re not any less abundant. But he’s become a master at tuning them out._

__

__

_Just keep moving, that’s all he can do. It’s all he can do, all he’s been doing, until he can’t. He can’t…_

_“What did you say?” Keith’s own voice surprises him, in its harshness._

_A group of cadets turn to him, confusion turning quickly to smugness as they take in Keith’s presence. It’s no secret among peers his year that Shiro is his friend. Was his friend. Keith doesn’t recoil at the thought; there’s a fire burning in his veins, one he hasn’t felt in a long time._

_“I asked you a question,” he hisses, drawing closer._

_Two of the boys turn wary. It’s been a while since Keith’s been in a fight, but rumors never die, not at the Garrison. Either this guy is new or he’s not afraid, or he’s just plain stupid, but he steps forward into Keith’s space, smile still in place, and answers._

_“I said, I always knew Shirogane was full of shit. Too bad it took a deep space crash for everyone else to see it.”_

_Keith sees red._

_He’s not sure what happens, but the next second he’s being pulled away by instructors, and the cadet with a smart mouth is covered in blood. Keith’s chest heaves and he has the horrible feeling that he might cry. He hates crying, especially in front of people. But he can’t stop it, can’t stop something from breaking inside of him. So he does the only thing he can: he wrenches out of the instructors’ hands, and he runs._

_The movement clears his head, enough so that he can fight the stinging in his eyes._

_He hides away in a storage room of all places. It was the first door he saw that wasn’t locked. Inside, he struggles to catch his breath. At the very least, the urge to cry subsides._

_His hands are still shaking. There’s blood on them. Footsteps ringing in the hall outside. He’s fucked up. There’s no taking it back, and he doesn’t want to take it back. There’s no one left who will defend him. Keith takes a steadying breath and steps out._

 

Keith blows a puff of smoke into the night. The gray cloud blocks out the stars for a moment, the burn in his lungs different in a way that’s almost relief. He tucks the rest of the pack in his pocket. What’s one more mistake, after all. 

 

 

Progress is slow, but steady. When his dad built the water system, he sure built it to last. There really wasn’t much work to be done on the actual well system, and the water storage tank was in good condition. Replacing the old pipes wasn’t hard work, but it _was_ tedious. 

It takes two days to finish changing the pipes and to install new filters. When Keith twists the knob on the shower and sees the first spray of water spurt out, the rush of pride is tangible. 

The water is _freezing_ , but he doesn’t care. It’s refreshing to have a real shower after so many days. He watches as the red dust swirls in the water and washes down the drain. He shudders. Never again. 

He doesn’t have any towels, and all his clothes is soaking in the sink. Keith pulls on his last clean set of boxers and heads outside. He can air dry while building a clothesline. 

An hour later, he’s sitting on the porch, eating another canned meal and watching his clothes dry. Now that he has running water, electricity was next on the list. Keith frowns. He’s been avoiding looking at the battered generator since he got here. Fixing it isn’t going to be easy, or cheap.

But it’s something to do. 

Nothing was worse than sitting around; too much space for his thoughts to get the best of him. Keith doesn’t wanna think about anything right now. And so it’s with that resolve that he pulls on his now dry pants and heads to the generator. 

He works through the night, choosing to use the flashlight batteries rather than rest. But even with his hands busy and mind racing with solutions, memories still manage to creep in. Worst part is, they’re distracting him. On the third burn mark from a particularly violent spark burst, Keith is forced to call it a night. 

Instead of making his way to bed after washing up, Keith finds himself on the porch, messing with the pack of cigarettes. He doesn’t want to make a habit of smoking, not really. Yet, he pulls one out, lights it up, and lets the sky grow cloudy with smoke. 

It’s not that he enjoys the taste, or craves the burn. It’s just… there’s something about it that gives him the courage to remember. He takes another drag. Maybe… maybe the night feels a little less lonely this way. 

He blows the smoke out his lungs and closes his eyes. 

 

_He gets sent to Iverson’s office, of course. The stern face of the commander does nothing to quell his anger. Of course. The fire is still fresh in his veins, blood still caked on his knuckles. Iverson doesn’t look impressed. Keith doesn’t care. Not anymore._

__

__

_“I’m surprised, cadet. Do you know why?”_

__

__

_Keith stares at his hands, flexes them rhythmically in his lap. He maybe mumbles an answer, he’s not sure. There’s a ringing in his ears, growing louder every second._

__

__

_“Eyes forward, cadet. Answer me clearly.”_

__

__

_Keith grits his teeth and looks up, nothing short of a vicious glare on his face. Iverson scowls._

__

__

_“No, sir. I don’t know why the hell you’re surprised,” his less than respectful answer comes as a hiss._

__

__

_Iverson leans forward, a dark glint in his eyes._

__

__

_“I’m surprised, cadet, that it took you this long to finally snap.”_

__

__

_Keith damn near snarls at that. He knows, he_ knows _Shiro is the only one that believes in him. Shiro is the reason he’s still here, why he lasted two whole years with only minor infractions. How ironic then, that Shiro is also the reason he’s leaving._

__

__

_“You know damn well that shuttle didn’t crash because of pilot error,_ sir _.”_

__

__

_Iverson narrows his eyes, but otherwise sits back, nonplussed. Keith continues, the heat under his skin screaming for release._

__

__

_“You’re not following protocol. Where’s the flight footage? The crew records? The flight logs? All of that is uploaded directly to the database in real time.”_

__

__

_“Technical error, cadet. It’s in the official report,” Iverson drawls, having the nerve to sound bored._

__

__

_Something snaps._

__

__

_“Bullshit! You’re lying, you know you are!”_

__

__

_“Cadet, you’re slipping. Reel it in._ Now. _”_

__

__

_Keith is out of his seat, chair toppled on the ground. He slams his hands on the desk and finally, that gets a reaction from Iverson._

__

__

_“Someone hacked your database. I know you and the Garrison are full of shit.”_

__

__

_The anger is potent, a white hot stab in his ribs. Yet, his voice is dangerously even. He can’t imagine what he must look like, to have Iverson looking_ nervous _._

__

__

_“Shirogane is the greatest pilot of our generation. I’ll die before I let anyone say otherwise.”_

__

__

_They’re silent for a long moment, staring each other down, unblinking. And then, Iverson leans forward. And then…_

__

__

_“Was.”_

__

__

_Keith blinks, breath caught._

__

__

_“Was, Keith. Shirogane_ was _the best pilot we had, but he’s gone, and now you—”_

__

__

_Iverson doesn’t finish that sentence. Or maybe he does, and the shriek or fury shooting through Keith drowns it out. Keith swears he blacks out for a second. Because he can’t remember moving, can’t remember making a fist._

__

__

_Can’t remember laying a punch on Iverson’s desk, so strong that it splinters the wood._

__

__

_There’s fresh blood on his knuckles, but this time it’s his own._

__

__

_Iverson stands over him, panic quickly giving way to controlled fury. Keith stares back at him, feeling unhinged for the first time in a long time._

__

__

_“Walk away, cadet. That’s an order.”_

__

__

_Guess he was never really good at following orders._

 

The generator takes a lot longer to fix than the water system. But by the end of the week, he’s gotten it patched up enough to jump start it with his hover bike. The wiring throughout the shack is patched up where possible, but at least half the wires had to be replaced. 

Keith feels like modern man discovering fire. 

Now he’s got water, he’s got electricity, and that means he has air conditioning. It’s not perfect. The AC unit is _old_ but it’s functional. At least, it lets out sporadic bursts of cool air throughout the day. The electric fan Keith bought picks up the rest of the slack. 

That night, he works in the bedroom, under the glow of the now functional lamp. He makes a list of all he’s spent and how much money he might have left. It isn’t a lot, he knows that much. Well, Keith might not be able to afford a new AC unit, but a mini fridge?

That he can do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright!! Chapter 1 of desert Keith week is a go! I’ve always wanted to write a fic about Keith’s time in the desert, but I’ve never had proper motivation. This isn’t quite how I envisioned doing it, but I’ve grown strangely attached to it anyhow!! Hope you stick around for the rest and go check out the other event week content. I’m sure it’s gonna be AMAZING.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 2: Wildlife

He’s always felt connected to the desert, in some way. It’s where he grew up, where he’s experienced life. It’s where he’s always found a sense of grounding, of peace. But as of late, it’s felt a little more so than that. 

It’s hard to explain, but as Keith stares out into the vast desert before him, he feels it. Some sort of strange pull, as if the desert has its own energy. An energy that’s calling to him. 

Maybe his decision to leave the Garrison and become a desert hermit was less impulsive and more _instinctual._

__

__

In the midst of his profound rumination, something catches his eye. 

There, on a hill not to far from him, a pack of coyotes are making their way home. The wild dogs of the desert are mostly nocturnal, and as the sun slowly creeps up behind the mountains, they’ll return to their dens to rest. Keith watches them with a smile, knowing they’re not a threat. Not at this distance, not so close to dawn. 

He’s content to watch their short procession over the hill. Right when he thinks the little parade is over, one of the coyotes break off from the pack, pausing long enough to stare in Keith’s general direction. Keith stares back at the dog with rapt attention. The coyote huffs and rejoins the pack. Keith smiles. Animals are strange.

Before the call of the desert can reach him again, Keith pulls himself up and heads inside. The shack isn’t the prettiest thing, but it’s livable. A little more work, and Keith can almost see himself calling it home again. 

He’s already cleaned out all the dust and grime from years of disuse. The coffee table he’d flipped over had broken. Now, it sits on a few cinder blocks he brought in from the work shed. It looks good to him. Rustic. 

He looks around the living room. There’s a lot he _can_ do, but no one task is more pressing than another. It’s all about what catches his interest. Keith’s eyes settle on the disheveled bookshelf and his mind is made. 

Really, the task should only take him a couple hours at most. Once he’s swept all the books off, it’s just a matter of realigning the shelving and nailing them back in. What ends up making this an all day endeavor is the fact that Keith decides he wants to _fill_ the bookshelf as well. 

He personally doesn’t have enough books for the task. He has the odd novel here and there, a small collection that he snagged from his dorm room before leaving the Garrison. There’s another box he brought with him. It has books in it, but they’re Shiro’s books. 

He doesn’t open that yet. 

There’s another box, tucked away in the hall closet, and Keith goes to face that ghost first. He drags the box to the center of the living room and plops down next to it. He takes his time dusting off the cover, not sure what he’s feeling as he opens it. 

His dad’s book collection. 

It’s one of the few things of his dad that he has left, along with the shack and his bike. Not a lot survived the fire that took down the main house. Keith doesn’t mourn that place, not really. It always felt too big. Too empty. 

He knows it’s because that house was home to one more. A mother he never knew. It’s better, then, to be left with just the shack. It was where he and his dad spent the most time. 

Maybe his dad couldn’t stand that loneliness either. 

Keith shakes the thought off, pulling out the books one by one. These books survived the fire because they were in the shack. Everything that survived the fire was in this shack. Including Keith.

There’s lots of books. More than Keith originally thought. He sits in the middle of the pile, studying their weathered covers. He looks back at the bookshelf, already housing his small collection. Maybe he can sort them alphabetically?

As he goes through the stack, carefully sorting them, he reads more and more titles. Keith picks up another and pauses. His dad had some diverse interests, that’s for sure. 

“The Sonoran Desert: a Comprehensive Guide,” Keith reads the title to himself, intrigued. 

It’s a book that focuses on local flora and fauna. What’s edible, what’s poisonous. What can soothe a sunburn and what can potentially save your life. 

Keith remembers the regular outings in the desert his dad would take him on. How he would point out plants and animals along the way. He snorts. Is this how his dad learned all that? Makes sense. 

As a kid, you just think parents are this endless well of knowledge. But of course he learned it from somewhere. 

Keith smiles and opens the book. 

 

Time passes differently, in the desert. 

At least, that’s what Keith thinks as he gets up to stretch and notices the sun has long since set. He closes the book and goes to turn on a lamp. Pays no mind to the fact that he _must’ve_ been reading in the dark. Well. He’s always had good eyesight. 

The nightingale has begun its song, greeting Keith as he walks outside. The moon is low on the horizon, bathing the earth in a silver light. As he’s pulling down the sheets he left drying on the clothesline, movement in the distance catches his eye. 

The pack of coyotes is back, taking a leisurely jog on a distant hilltop. Keith stops to watch them go. 

Again, a lone coyote breaks of from the pack and turns around. This time there’s no mistaking that those glowing eyes are locked on Keith’s own. 

Keith smiles. Should the curious coyote stop by again, Keith wants to give it a name. Until then, he pulls out another cigarette, and makes himself comfortable to watch the stars. 

 

 

Some would think the desert is an empty, lonely place to live. Those people couldn’t be more wrong. The desert is full of life, if you would only be still enough to feel it all around you.

The constant buzz of insects, the song of desert birds. The skittering of lizards and other small creatures. The desert was never quiet, not really. Keith loves that about the desert. The feeling of solitude, without the weight of loneliness. It was a delicate balance, but Keith thinks he’s managing just fine. 

And then there was that… energy. That song that calls to him every so often. Keith makes to follow it, half-heartedly, but gets distracted by something or other every time. 

Sort of like today. Keith sets out on his bike to survey some nearby mesas. That’s when he feels it again, that pull. He gets off his bike, intending to maybe actually follow it this time. And he would’ve, if it weren’t for the lizards. 

He’s climbing the mesas, fully intent on exploring more, when he comes across them. A group of about 10 lizards, hanging out on a mesa top, sunbathing. Keith freezes at the edge of the cliff. 

The sight has him thrumming with delight, but what he needs now is to be patient. Lizards were naturally skittish creatures, but Keith has been honing his skills since childhood. 

Ever so slowly, Keith pulls himself onto the mesa top, keeping low to the ground. He lays out, flat on his stomach, eyes never leaving the gang of lizards. 

A few of the closer lizards eye him warily, skittering away. But for the most part, the gang stays put. Keith allows himself to smile, relaxing into his position. He pillows his head in his arms and lays there, sunbathing along with his newfound company. 

The call of the desert can wait. 

He finds himself returning to that mesa top every few days, joining the family of lizards in their daily sunbathing session. A few weeks in and they’ve finally grown used to his company, not even batting an eye as he clambers up and joins their group.

Keith’s never been the most patient person. It’s taken him _years_ to develop the skill, and even now it isn’t perfect. But for some reason, patience with animals has always come naturally. Since he was little, he’s been able to just kind of jive with critters, scooping up lizards as if they were docile puppies. 

The first time he showed off this skill, it had been a couple months since joining the Garrison, since becoming friends with Shiro, and consequently Matt. They’d been in the Garrison garages, and Shiro had pointed at the lizard hanging out on the wall with glee. Keith had been surprised that neither of them wanted to approach it. 

_“We’re just gonna scare it off.”_

__

__

_Shiro nodded, resigned. “Yeah, just leave the little guy be.”_

__

__

But Keith had known the lizard wouldn’t mind being carried for a bit. So he’d approached the wall with that same tempered ease, and gently plucked it from its perch. The lizard relaxed in his hands, content to have a new source of warmth, oblivious to the gawking of the other cadets. 

Keith’s smile slowly falls, shifting into a sitting position. The memory is a good one, really it is. But it makes something heavy settle inside him. Thinking about Matt… thinking about _Shiro_ … it’s just too much. 

He looks down as something settles in his lap. 

Yolanda, distinct from the other lizards with her stubby tail, crawls over Keith’s leg, continuing to soak in the sun from her new perch. He looks over at the rest of the lizards, all unique in ways he’s come to learn after weeks together. 

There’s Ricky with the interesting brown mottling on across his back. Shrek and Fiona, the two greenest and largest of the bunch. There’s Stella and Jorge, Xochitl and Jade. One by one, he counts them all, running through the names he’s given them in their short time together. 

When he’s catalogued them all, a sense of ease lightens the weight in his gut. Keith lays back flat on the rocks, trying not to jostle Yolanda in his lap. He turns his face to stare at his reptilian friends, and then does what he always does, when he’s alone and feeling restless. 

He talks. 

“I wonder, do you ever give humans names?”

 

 

To Keith’s fascination and delight, the curious coyote makes its presence more and more known. He’ll see it most at night, far off in the desert, when there’s no mistaking where those bright eyes are looking. 

Keith really can’t find it in himself to be worried. Not even when the coyote begins to break off from the pack for longer periods of time, drawing closer and closer each night. No, Keith isn’t afraid. His gut tells him there’s no need. 

Keith’s always been good with animals, especially “wild” ones. Creatures not often tamed, of which Keith had no _intention_ to tame. Those had always been the best to befriend. 

He remembers now, how his abuelita used to call him the animal whisperer. She’d always said such curious things to him, things that he treasured as a child, and still looks back on fondly now. Tita Yiya didn’t have a lot of people to talk to, but Keith had always listened to her. 

He still would, if he could. 

See, she hadn’t _really_ been his grandmother, but she’d been close enough. For the two years he’d spent with that foster family in Las Cruces, she’d been his grandmother. Tita Yiya is still the woman he remembers with the most longing. 

She’d said he had a gift, a natural sense for how to make animals trust him. She said it was because his heart was honest, and animals could feel that, much more so than humans could. He doesn’t know if she was right, or if he even really believed her, but it had been a nice thought. 

It still was a nice thought. It’s one he thinks now, as he walks away from the safety of his shack and into the moonlit desert. The coyote isn’t far off now, gold eyes watching him from a hilltop. Keith maintains steady eye contact as he slowly makes his way up. 

They’re close now, closer than ever, and Keith can _feel_ the apprehension roll off him in waves. Can almost feel the apprehension from the coyote too, if that’s possible. Keith believes it is. 

They’re both still as they stare each other down, wondering who will make the first move. Then, ever so slowly, he reaches into the bag tucked in one arm, and draws out a strip of beef jerky. Keith extends his hand with a piece of jerky towards the coyote. 

The dogs that ran these deserts were undeniably wild, but in that moment, Keith _knew_ the animal wouldn’t attack him. It approaches slowly, cautiously, sniffing at the offering. A beat of silence hangs heavy between them. Then, the coyote closes the gap, lightning fast, and snatches the treat with razor sharp teeth. Keith’s hand is unscathed. 

It trots away a fair distance before stopping and watching Keith as it chews the piece of dried meat. From this proximity, Keith is free to study the coyote, to learn its character. First, he notes that the coyote is most likely a _she_. And she’s beautiful. 

She must stand at about the height of his knee, with sleek, dusty gray fur. Her eyes are actually gold, and not just a reflection of the light like Keith thought. And those eyes… those are intelligent eyes. He’s going to think of a good name for her, he just knows it. 

She finishes her piece of jerky, sharp canines on playful display as she contemplates her next move. Keith is ecstatic when she doesn’t flee, but instead starts towards him again, still just as cautious. 

There is no mistaking it, that glint in the coyote’s eye that screams _wild_. But as Keith smiles and picks out another piece of jerky, he wonders if there isn’t something wild inside him, too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m a very big fan of the HC that Keith’s galra side makes him very in tune with animals (and makes animals very in tune with him). I’d planned this before s6 came out bc Keith deserves a canine companion and wow,,,,we’re so blessed.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 3: Climate

When people thought about summer in the desert, Keith is sure they probably imagine sunny days and unrelenting heat, but not much else. Little did they know, the summer months were some of the most tumultuous. 

But they were right about one thing: it all begins with the searing _heat._

__

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Keith had been lucky, to have ditched the Garrison when he did. He knows this. He’s taken full advantage of the early weeks of summer, working non-stop before the heat could really begin. 

Now, it seems temperatures climb daily, easily breaking over 115 on the reg. It gets to the point where Keith won’t risk venturing outside for very long midday. 

But being trapped indoors during daylight hours is its own type of torture. He’s already switched his sleep schedule, to match the nocturnal creatures that roam these lands. But the truth of the matter is that Keith doesn’t sleep much anymore. Too much rattling inside his head to grant him that peace. 

So he lies awake most days, restless energy buzzing under his skin. It’s the strangest sensation he’s been feeling as of late. A restlessness, yet a bone deep reluctance to do anything about it.

There were things to do, but Keith couldn’t make himself _do_ any of them. He’s not sure what this feeling is, if he can even call it a _feeling_. It’s more like… the absence of feeling. Like he’s been hollowed out and stuffed with cotton. 

The heat. It must be the heat draining him. 

The heat drains the desert, too. Summer begins with the unrelenting heat, sun scorching earth, leaving it bleached dry. And then came the winds. 

Mix high winds with brittle earth, and you get Keith’s least favorite desert phenomenon: dust storms. Hot wind swirling with red sand, sweeping away anything in its path. On these days, Keith is literally confined to the shack, watching the endless barrage of sand pound against the windows. 

As Keith sits there, listening to the creaking wood and howling wind, he has a sudden thought. The hazy dust storm outside looks very much like what his head _feels_ like. Like there’s sand rattling in his head, his ribs, drying out his throat. Forcing him to live his days in a bleary daze. 

And then he realizes, he’s felt this before. No, not realizes. _Remembers._

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_An alert on his phone. That’s how Keith hears about the Kerberos mission. A Garrison wide alert, so clinical and understated that Keith almost ignores it. But he can’t, of course he can’t._

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_He reads the words, multiple times, but can’t seem to make sense of them. They don’t make sense, they just don’t._ Gone missing. Pilot error. Presumed dead. _It’s all… it’s too much…_

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_And then, he just sort of goes blank. He’s almost hyper aware of his movements, but that doesn’t mean he’s in control of them. Keith knows he’s running. Swears he can feel every harsh breath and thundering heartbeat with devastating clarity._

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_He goes to the only place he can think of. The Garrison garages are technically closed at this time of night, but Keith knows how to override the locks. Shiro taught him how._

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_Doors opened, Keith starts up his bike and takes off. He doesn’t know how long he drives, or how far from the Garrison he is when he finally stops. All he knows is that the night is clear, the moon is new, and he can see millions of glittering stars._

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_For the first time, the sight brings him no comfort._

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_He can’t seem to catch his breath as he squats, legs suddenly weak. His whole body shakes with the heaving of his chest as he tries not to tear apart._

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_He’s alone in the vast desert, with nothing but the cold celestial bodies as his witness._

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_Then, it’s like a switch is flipped, somewhere deep inside him. Keith stands up, forcing his legs to hold his weight. He takes a few steady breaths. His eyes are dry and he feels strangely empty._

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_It’s almost as if… he feels_ so much _, that now he feels nothing at all. Keith climbs on his bike and heads back to the Garrison._

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_He shuts down after that. Does what he needs to do, but nothing more. He can’t remember if he sleeps, if he eats. Midterms come and go. He’s not sure if he passes them, but at least he shows up._

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_Another alert tings on his phone. The Garrison is holding a public memorial service for the Kerberos crew. As should be expected. Keith can hardly stomach the implications. Can’t stomach them, if the bile crawling up his throat means anything._

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Kerberos. Pilot error. Presumed dead. _The words are seared like brands in Keith’s mind, white hot pain burning every time he shuts his eyes._

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_Then he hears the rumors._

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_Someone broke into Iverson’s office. Someone hacked his computer. The official report isn’t the whole story. The Garrison is hiding something, something important._

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_Keith feels something shift inside him, shudder and shake something loose. Not long after, Keith snaps. Leaves the Garrison and its lies behind. Ignores the swelling emptiness inside him, all the while._

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Keith exhales, nearly shaking with the effort. He realizes now that he’s been in shock. All this time he’s been evading, running, ignoring everything building inside him. 

If he keeps going like this, it’s gonna tear him apart. 

Keith stretches out on his cot and stares at the ceiling. Now that he’s admitted it to himself, there’s no going back. He can feel the swirl of emotions brewing in his chest. 

This is different, new. When he lost his dad, he’d been too young. Children cry and children are sad, and it’s allowed. Keith doesn’t remember the last time he let himself cry. 

The storm outside finally stops. Keith, for once, actually sleeps. 

 

 

A few days later, the last of the dust storms seem to die away, and Keith is finally out of the shack. He’s coping well, he thinks. That night he cracked, he’d managed to sleep for a long, _long_ time. 

His body had needed it, but his mind was still reeling from it. 

Memories came to him as dreams, twisting into familiar forms and flitting just out of his reach. Keith hates how haunted he feels after waking each time. 

But it’s fine. He’ll be fine. Besides, his short lived breakdown reminded him of something. 

The Garrison has secrets, secrets about Kerberos, and Keith was going to find out what they were. 

There’s a book on the shelf, and Keith can't be sure who it belongs to. It’s about radio systems and signals. Like an answer to his idle hands, that book gives him the means to begin building his own radio. 

Technically, the shack already has a radio. Keith’s dad installed it way back when, to intercept emergency calls from the fire station. Keith just has to repair and modify it to intercept Garrison transmissions instead. 

He’ll figure it out. Somehow. If he can just _stay focused_ for more than five damn minutes-

Keith sighs in frustration, pausing his work on the radio antenna. He sits back on his heels, careful not to lose balance and fall off the roof. He looks up at the bright sky, taking dim note of the gathering clouds, and tries to choke down whatever’s crawling up his throat. 

Honestly, Keith is _fine_ , except for the whole sudden mood swing thing. 

Maybe mood swing isn’t the right word. It’s more than that. It’s mental, emotional, fuck, it’s even physical. He’ll be going about his day, then inevitably something will remind him of Shiro, and he’ll just _crash._

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Where before he could push down his feelings, his memories, now they flood him too fast, too strong. Every accidental rememberance or casual thought of Shiro has storm clouds racing to cover his hazy sky. 

Keith squints at the sky again. Well, what a coincidence. 

Another thing people don’t often understand: the desert is a wild and unpredictable place. One minute it could be a beautiful, sunny day, and the next moment it’s caught in a downpour. 

It’s monsoon season, and as Keith watches the violent downpour from his porch, he struggles to catch his breath. Both from his sprint down from the roof, but also to fight the heaving against his rib. 

He doesn’t know what to do with all these feelings living inside him. He thinks he might be empathizing with the red earth, currently being bombarded by heavy rain. 

Keith feels like maybe there’s a desert living inside him, too. 

One minute he’s burning, a blinding, scorching heat radiating from his core. The next, there’s a storm passing through, but the rain isn’t the cooling balm he hopes for. It’s destructive in its own unique way. 

The rain stops but Keith can’t make himself go back out yet. 

He instead observes the ground, fascinated by the marks the rain left behind. Puddles and tiny streams soak into the parched earth. The ground has been torn apart by the heavy drops, by the insistent downpour. 

Keith shakes, releasing a trapped breath, and slides down to sit on the porch. He’s the earth, slowly being torn apart, chipped away by the storms brewing in his heart. 

He’s ripping at the seams, but still fights to hold himself together. He’s always been stubborn like that. 

So he gets up and keeps working. 

 

 

_It’s late. Too far past curfew for Keith to be up and about. But he’s feeling restless tonight, as usual, so he makes his way through the winding halls, easily avoiding the night monitors. He’s long since memorized their patrol paths._

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_Keith doesn’t have to think too hard about where he’s heading, or why he’s restless._

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_Shiro is leaving soon._

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_Keith can’t quite sort out his feelings on that matter. He’s hoping the gentle quiet of the rooftop will give him some sort of answer._

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_He quickly overrides the lock and pushes the door open. The cool night air rushes to greet him. But that isn’t the only thing that greets him._

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_Shiro._

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_Shiro’s up against the railing, relaxed and either oblivious or uncaring of Keith’s presence. His back is facing Keith, broad figure silhouetted by the starry night sky. But that’s not all that stands stark against the calm backdrop. Is he…?_

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_“You don’t smoke,” is how Keith greets him._

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_Shiro turns, granting a shy smile as Keith settles next to him on the railing._

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_“No, I guess I don’t,” Shiro chuckles, toying with the lit cigarette in his hand._

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_“Why the sudden interest?”_

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_Shiro shrugs. “It was just… something to do, I guess.”_

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_The ensuing silence hangs heavy between them. They stay like that for a long while, watching the stars, watching the cigarette smoke and burn out in Shiro’s hand._

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_Shiro watches the stars, and Keith watches Shiro._

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_He’s leaving. Shiro’s leaving, and Keith is so incredibly proud. So incredibly happy that his friend will finally have his chance among the stars._

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_And yet, there’s a bone crushing loneliness growing inside him, at the thought of losing this. This simple comfort of just being in each other’s presence._

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_But Keith has been alone before; he can learn to be alone again._

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_“Keith.”_

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_Shiro’s gentle voice pulls him out of his head and back into the moment. He takes a deep breath. Shiro is still here, in front of him, and he needs to savor every moment of it._

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_“Shiro.”_

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_He calmly answers back, disguising the mess in his heart, and takes pride in the wry smile it draws on Shiro’s lips. But then he sighs and a weight settles over them again._

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_“I’m leaving in a week.”_

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_“I know.”_

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_“I’m gonna be gone for at least a year.”_

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_“Shiro, I know.”_

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_And something in Keith’s voice makes Shiro stop. Stop and stare at him, and Keith fights not to squirm under that kind of attention, even still. Shiro’s eyes soften and he moves a little closer, naturally so._

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_“I just want to make sure you’re gonna be okay. We’ve only really known each other a few years, but I know what you were like when we first met, and—”_

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_“Shiro.”_

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_Keith cuts him off. Not harshly, like when he was 15 and fighting the world. But with a gentle smile and warm hand on Shiro’s arm._

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_“I’m gonna be fine. I promise.”_

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_Shiro relaxes under his touch, under the sincerity Keith is trying to desperately to convey. It’ll be hard, and Keith will miss him… but he means it, with all his heart._

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_“I believe you. You’ve grown so much. I’m proud of you, Keith.”_

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_The hand on Keith’s shoulder is warm and familiar, and he leans into the touch. Shiro’s grip tightens minutely, and his expression turns contemplative. Keith shoots him a questioning look and gets a half smile in response._

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_“I’m seriously gonna miss you like crazy.”_

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_Keith visibly startles at the declaration, but he doesn’t pull away. Shiro looks so focused, as if there’s nothing that could make him look away. Keith feels a warmth bloom in his chest, melting him from within._

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_“I’m gonna miss you too,” is his quiet, yet earnest reply._

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_The silence between them is heavy, but it’s different now. He can’t quite put his finger on_ how _it’s different… but he just knows._

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_“I’m excited though, to see how much you’ll change while I’m gone. I can’t wait to see how far you’ll go.”_

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_Shiro’s hand slides up from his shoulder to cup his neck, squeezing once before letting go. That brief touch makes Keith lose his breath. Shiro is digging through his pockets, giving Keith a much needed moment to pull himself together._

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_“Shiro, what are you…” Keith’s question dies on his tongue as Shiro pulls out a chain._

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_“Consider this… a late birthday gift.”_

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_“But you already gave me a birthday gift.”_

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_Shiro rolls his eyes. “Fine then, a going away gift. Although I didn’t wanna call it that…”_

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_He grumbles the last part, but Keith doesn’t pay it mind. He’s too focused on the chain in his hands. Shiro’s dog tags._

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_“Why are you giving me this?”_

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_Keith’s voice is sharp, but Shiro is used to that by now. It’s a sure sign that Keith is_ overwhelmed. 

_“Maybe I trust you to take care of them, until I get back,” but Shiro wavers, smile falling._

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_“Maybe I just want you to remember me. Don’t forget about me, Keith.”_

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_His voice is thick with choked back tears when he answers, “I could never…”_

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_Shiro pulls him into an embrace, warm and strong and safe._

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_“Don’t forget about me.” Whispered into his hair._

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_“I won’t.” Keith clings tighter._

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_Then Shiro let’s go, eyes so sad Keith can’t stand it._

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_“But you already have.”_

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Keith wakes up gasping, drenched in sweat, and fights to untangle from the sheets. Outside, it’s raining again. 

It’s monsoon season, and Keith has never felt so alone. 

He stumbles off his cot, dazed and disoriented, and grabs his jacket from the floor. Frantically, he digs through the pockets until his fingers come in contact with cool metal. 

He forgot. 

He sits back down on the cot, clutching Shiro’s dog tags, and struggles to breathe. Unbidden, tears begin to form in his eyes, and he doesn’t have the strength to fight them anymore. He’s so tired. 

A flash of lightning. A crack of thunder. Keith sits, alone in his room, and cries. 

 

 

It comes to him in bits and pieces, and then all at once. The next few weeks are the most trying times of Keith’s life, he’s sure of it. 

He experiences what must be the full width of his emotions, the turmoil inside unable to settle. It happens almost with no warning, no discernible trigger. 

One minute he might be washing clothes or fixing the radio, and then he’ll just be inexplicably _angry_. Like a dry lightning storm, it flashes through him; an unquenchable fire in his veins, destroying everything in its path. 

Like lightning leaves scorches on the earth, Keith leaves the vicinity in shambles, cleaning the wreckage with bloody knuckles every time. 

There’s anger, then there’s also the _nothingness_. That might be Keith’s least favorite phase. On the worst of days he can’t even make himself move from his cot. 

As he lays there, empty and motionless, he can hear the desert calling to him, its song loud and clear. He rolls over. He can’t be bothered to chase it. 

So he sleeps. And he dreams. It’s never restful. 

But the most frequent attack has to be the bouts of sudden, soul crushing _sadness_. Keith doesn’t think he’s ever felt anything quite like it. When it hits, it literally steals his breath away. 

At least with the sorrow, he knows what causes it. Shiro. Always Shiro. And often, the most mundane of things hurt the most. 

Keith will be repairing a roof leak, and the dog tags around his neck will fall out of his shirt, glittering in the moonlight. It’s enough to set him off, to have him yanking off the chain and throwing it; enough to send him quickly after it with a dry sob, because being without it hurts even more. 

It will be Keith, flipping the radio to a music station for fun. A song comes on and Keith remembers studying on the floor of Shiro’s dorm, watching the junior officer sing along with glee. 

He stumbles over to the radio, shutting it off with shaking hands and shaking lungs, trying and failing to keep himself together. 

Why did this hurt so much? Keith couldn’t wrap his mind around it. He’s lost people before. A mother he never knew. A father taken too quickly. People and families he would join only to be ripped away, again and again. 

Why was this one instance of loss haunting him so?

Keith is going through his notebooks one day. Maybe he’s looking for something, maybe it’s out of boredom. Either way the result is the same. 

He flips through the pages of notes and then blank pages, and then stumbles upon something. A page in writing that isn’t his, but is just as familiar. 

Shiro. 

He needs to take a moment to calm himself, to breathe and will his hands to stop shaking. Then, against all his better judgement, he starts reading. 

_Keith!_

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_If you keep studying and working hard, as usual, you’re bound to find this page by the end of the semester. By then, I’ll have been gone for a while. Guess this is the only way I have the courage to tell you…_

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_When I come back, you’ll find out what it is. So don’t forget this! Hold me accountable, or I’ll probably wuss out, again. Anyways, keep working hard. And remember, no matter what, I will never give up on you, or leave you. I promise._

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_-Shiro_

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Keith stares at the page for a long time, frozen in place. 

Something breaks inside him. 

Something that has been shaking and rattling and fighting this whole time. It breaks and Keith can do nothing about the tears that roll down his face. Can do nothing but sit there and let himself cry. 

Summer in the desert is the season of rain. 

Monsoons that blow in out of nowhere to drown the scorched terrain. Even just ten minutes of rain can create a flash flood, raging waters sweeping away anything in its path. After years and years of this, that’s how the canyons are formed. 

Even a mountain can be moved if the sky is hurt enough. 

 

 

The pain of it all lies in the ‘not knowing.’ It lies in the ‘could have been’ and ‘almost was.’ 

Keith will never know what Shiro wanted to tell him. Will never know what Shiro saw out there, if it was beautiful or terrifying, if it was _worth it_. He will never find out what Shiro thinks of who he’s becoming. 

He never knew how much of his future he’d imagined with Shiro by his side, until now. This was the feeling of not knowing something’s true worth, until it was gone. 

Except Keith has always known it, that Shiro was worth far more than what he could give. And still, _still_ , he strived to keep him by his side. As long as he could. Not long enough. 

The weight of this loss is something new and wholly unfamiliar. But like everything else, Keith would learn to carry it. He had to. 

Keith drags himself to the radio, eyes red from tears and sleepless nights. He’s programmed a machine to print transcripts of any Garrison transmissions containing certain keywords. 

There’s not much, as usual, and what little there was is riddles in codes. Keith files the transcript away, to be decoded with the rest. 

Maybe Keith won’t ever see Shiro again, but _damn_ if he wouldn’t find out what _really_ happened on Kerberos. 

Keith wanders outside, sitting on the porch to watch the sunset. The air is humid and cool from the recent storm. It’s pleasant. Keith takes in a deep breath, doesn’t light a cigarette just yet. 

Coyotes howl in the distance and Keith perks up. Even through all these weeks of turmoil, he never let himself neglect his wild friend. 

Backlit by the last rays of sun, Metztli trots over a hill and towards the shack. Keith smiles and throws her a steak bone he’d saved in greeting. 

He’d named her Metztli, after the moon, because obviously she only shows up at night. But also because the silver of her fur was striking in the moonlight. 

She stares up at him now, eyes gleaming with a hidden knowledge, even as she keeps gnawing on the bone. 

“You remind me of someone, you know? His eyes were the same warm silver as you.”

Metztli doesn’t react to his confession. Just snorts and continues eating. But it’s enough for the words to not send him reeling. Enough for him to accept the sorrow, and then feel _beyond_ it. 

In the end, even the most violent of storms had a purpose. 

In the two months of storms and flooding and chaos, the desert was created anew. The natural springs replenished themselves. The soil was fresh again. Desert plants gorged themselves for the dry months to come. 

It was like a clean slate, preparation for a new year.

Keith took in another deep breath and held it in, really feeling the chilled air, the scent of new beginnings. If he could just brave these storms, he would also come out of it anew. 

Already, it felt easier to breathe. To be. 

He knows now that he’s been in mourning. He realizes that it’s what he needed all along: time to mourn. He’s just been too stubborn to admit it. 

Keith steps off the porch, feet leaving imprints in the damp earth. Metztli follows him curiously, and Keith risks a quick pat to her head. He looks up at the stars and braces himself. 

He will weather this storm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So when I first conceptualized what a “pre canon Keith desert fic” would be like....this was it. The imagery and metaphors of drastic desert climate, to me, mirrors well the way people process grief. I kinda took my original idea of weather and grief and condensed it into a 3.5k chapter lol
> 
> Also yes the coyote is named Metztli I’m also an avid enthusiast of the HC that Keith not only speaks Spanish but is very into mesoamerican history and folklore. Metztli is one of the names used for goddess of the moon ;—)


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 4: Scouting

It’s the dawn of a new day. Keith steps out into the cool morning air, letting the slight chill wash over him. The dawn after fresh rain always cooled the desert down, enough to be refreshing. 

Yes, it’s a new day and Keith is ready. 

He’s loaded his hoverbike with bags of supplies, enough to last him a whole week. Across his torso is a satchel, filled with a different type of supplies. A notebook, various copies of maps of the area, a camera, and much more. 

He throws a leg over the bike and gives his shack one last glance. It seems so serene in the blue light of early morning. Keith feels a pang of nostalgia, but there’s an even greater pull dragging him away. He’s ignored the call of the desert for too long. 

Something is out there, and he’s gonna _find it._

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Whatever it is, Keith hardly believes he’s gonna find it right away. But he’s determined to find something, anything, to give him new purpose. He speeds towards the canyons, where he feels the pull the strongest. 

He’s going to stay in those canyons all week. He’s not going home empty handed. He simply refuses. 

Keith’s hunch about not finding the source right away was correct. As he draws closer to the canyons, the feeling leading him seems to settle, disperse. He hovers at the top of a mesa, gazing at the winding canyons below. 

Yes, there’s a definite energy coming from them. But Keith can’t pick out any particular direction to explore first. He takes a deep breath and closes his eyes. Revs the engine and drops into a nosedive from the cliff. 

Let’s see where fate may lead him. 

Despite his dramatic start, the first day of exploring is uneventful. Keith settles on a central area in the canyon to start his search. The recent rains have left the rivers full, a number of streams cutting through red sediment. He won’t run out of water at least. 

Not sure how to go about this, Keith pulls out one of the maps he has. 

“Alright, now where are we…”

He circles a few places where he approximates his location. Then, he chooses a direction. 

“Guess we’ll start with north.”

 

 

Originally, Keith planned to camp out in a cave, come nightfall. But as the sky turns dark and stars illuminate the canyons, Keith finds himself enraptured. 

It’s been a while now, since the night sky has brought him anything but pain. 

Keith lays out his sleeping bag and builds a small fire, up against the canyon wall so at least his back is protected. The stars above continue their glittering dance, and for once, Keith is content to watch them. 

A howl in the distance has Keith looking around in shock. He doesn’t know how or _why_ Metztli followed him, but there she is, climbing down a canyon wall, bathed in starlight. 

“I don’t have any bones for you,” Keith sighs as the coyote draws closer. 

Metztli stares at him with those golden eyes, huffs and sits herself down by the fire. Keith can’t help the giggle that bubbles in his throat. If she sticks around long enough, he might just give her a piece of jerky, to thank her for the company. 

Keith sighs and relaxes back against the rocks, head tipped up to watch the stars. Ever since he was a child, he’s wanted nothing more than to reach them. 

He recalls the moonlit hikes his dad would take him on. Recalls the way his dad looked up at the heavens with a strange wistfulness. 

It was on one of those nights, while stargazing together, that Keith first asks… 

_“Papa, where’s mama?”_

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_His dad snaps his eyes away from the sky, regarding Keith with a gentle sadness he’s too young to understand. Then he smiles, that patient smile that always tempers Keith tantrums. A smile that always calms him like nothing else can._

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_He bends down and Keith ambles into his arms, giggling as he’s lifted off the ground._

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_“Keith, look up at the stars.”_

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_He tips his head up, following his dad’s hand as he points to a bright light. The North Star._

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_“Your mama is up there. She’s sorry she had to leave so soon, but she’s always looking over you.”_

__

__

_Keith stares up, millions of pinpricks of light reflecting in his eyes._

__

__

_“I wanna go see her.”_

__

__

_His dad hums, holding him tighter._

__

__

_“Maybe you will someday. But do you know how to get there?”_

__

__

_He looks at Keith with kind eyes, and Keith shakes his head._

__

__

_“Well, you’ve gotta become an astronaut first, silly!” His dad laughs._

__

__

_That’s the first time Keith learns it’s possible. To reach the stars. Five years old and full of dreams, he believes he wants to live there._

__

__

 

Metztli leaves. Keith never expected her to stay long. That’s why he’s so surprised when she returns not an hour later. The red staining her fur tells Keith all he needs to know about where she went. Well, at least he doesn’t need to feed her now. 

“Metztli, do you know the constellations?” 

He’s not expecting an answer, but he’s pleased when she huffs, shifting to get comfortable by his feet. 

“Humans don’t all have instincts like you,” the _‘or me’_ goes unsaid, “so people have learned to orient their lives around the heavens.”

The coyote doesn’t know what he’s saying. But her eyes never leave him as he talks. Keith is even tempted to say she’s _paying attention_ as he points out every star he know. 

He passes the night like that, recounting constellations and their myths. And for once, he doesn’t feel so alone. 

 

 

The next several days of exploration go about as well as the first. That is to say, Keith is halfway through his rations, and has absolutely nothing to show for it. 

He’s frustrated. Extremely so. He might’ve called it quits by now, if he couldn’t still feel that buzzing energy under his skin. 

That, and if it weren’t for the _dreams._

__

__

Keith and dreams have never quite gotten along, and even less so after losing Shiro. His dreams are always riddled with fevered memories or twisted almost realities. Keith hates the hollow feeling he wakes with, every time. 

But these dreams… they were different. And not because they were any less haunting. It was almost like… they felt tinged with the desert’s energy, somehow. 

Keith doesn’t quite know how to describe it. But as he sits in the early dawn, hazy recollections swirling, he feels the energy pulse stronger than ever. 

In his dream, there’s a lion. Or he’s a lion?He can’t be too sure. Dreams are confusing. But… 

_There’s a lion and it’s both leading him and being led by him._

__

__

_They’re in the canyons, then in the shack._

__

__

_They’re up in space, plucking Shiro’s cold body where it’s suspended in the heavens._

__

__

_They’re in a cave and it’s dark but also blindingly bright._

__

__

_There’s a blue pulse, a lifeline, and Keith wakes up tasting the ocean._

__

__

The memory of it still sends a chill through him. Keith swears the salt water in his throat is more than just the taste of stale sweat. He shudders on an exhale and gets up. He’s gonna keep searching. 

 

 

Of course, it’s when he’s running on the last of his rations, when he actually _needs_ to leave, that he finds something. 

He’s exploring an outcropping of caves, on a random area on the map that he hasn’t gone near yet. Keith steps into a new cave and freezes. 

He feels it before he sees it, a sudden spike in energy. It’s like the air is electrified, and if the sky wasn’t perfectly clear, Keith would be running because that’s a sure sign that lightning’s about to strike. 

Keith follows the sensation, deeper and deeper into the cave. Until he hits a dead end. 

Well, not exactly. There’s a small opening in the wall, maybe wide enough for him to crawl through. Keith places his hand inside the opening and his eyes widen.

It feels _alive_ with energy. He has to follow it. 

Turns out the opening _is_ just big enough for Keith to crawl through. Thankfully, he doesn’t have to crawl for very long. The short tunnel leads him into a wide cavern, definitely large enough for him to fully stand. 

It’s dark, incredibly so, and Keith blinks as his eyes fight to adjust. He feels like he can just barely make out some kind of markings on the walls. 

He digs through his satchel, searching for a flashlight. Rests a hand on the wall for support and immediately recoils. 

Energy. Raw energy, radiating from the walls, now rushing through his veins. He scrambles to shine a light on the walls, illuminating a myriad of strange markings. 

Keith doesn’t know _what_ he’s found, but damn, he sure found _something._

__

__

 

 

Back in the shack, freshly showered and resting on something much softer than boulders, Keith looks over his findings. 

He took a number of photos of the cave markings, as well as noting on his maps an approximation of where the cavern was. 

He scrolls through the photos again. Keith needs more time to be sure, but he’s almost positive that these markings weren’t made by any local tribes. 

Stylistically, they don’t match any petroglyphs Keith’s ever seen. Not to mention the unusual present of… flying lions? Definitely not a popular motif among the ancient southwestern tribes. 

Keith can’t help but think of the strange dreams again. Can’t help but think all this is connected. Can’t help but think… something’s _missing._

__

__

Keith shuts off his phone and hops off the cot. The sun is low on the horizon when he walks outside. He sits in the rocking chair, the one he recently repaired, and lights a cigarette. 

As he stares at the vast desert, at the canyons in the distance, he feels it. Feels it still calling to him. He takes a drag and blows out smoke. 

This isn’t over. No. This is just the beginning. 

 

 

Keith goes into town the next day. It’s part of his routine, a bi-monthly supply run. But this is a bigger haul than usual. 

Moving forward, he’s planning to spend a lot more time in the canyons, which means he needs more non perishable foods. And more sunscreen. 

Then, there’s the planning board. Keith goes to a craft store for this part. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t get a small rush of childish glee while picking up items. A cork board, a giant map, a box of thumbtacks, and colorful yarn. 

If he was going to be unraveling the mysteries of the desert, and exposing government cover ups, then he at least was gonna have fun doing it. 

He made an earlier stop at the public library, to print out his cave photos. It’s gonna be an inconvenience, having to head to town every time he had pictures to print. 

Unfortunately, the machine he uses at home to print radio transcripts can’t be converted into an all-purpose printer. Not easily, at least, and Keith doesn’t have that type of time anymore. 

So, Keith stops in a small novelty shop before leaving. As he hoped, this store sells old Polaroid cameras. He buys ones, along with several packs of film, and finally his shopping spree is complete. 

The wall in the living room is where Keith decides to set up shop. He hangs the cork board and carefully pins the giant map to it. He sorts and tacks all the cave pictures in one corner. 

On the other side, in the empty gaps, he starts to cut up and organize the radio transcripts he’s collected. After a moment of thought, he also tacks up his decoding sheet for easy reference. 

He steps back, satisfied. 

Tomorrow, he’ll head out to double check his location accuracy with another map. When he’s sure of the spot, he’ll add a piece of string to the board, tying the pictures to a place. After that, he’ll set out again, seeking more caves, more markings, and adding them to the board. 

Then, he can finally begin connecting the dots. Keith smiles. He can hardly wait.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The last few chapters are gonna be shorter I think, compared to the first 3. For the purpose of not sounding redundant AND because I didn’t have a lot of time to dedicate to writing them orz
> 
> But these chapters say what I need them to say, and that’s all I need. Hope you enjoy!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 5: rest

Keith winces, carefully limping back towards his hoverbike. Of all the things to finally knock him out of commission, he didn’t think _tripping into a river_ would be it. 

He clambers onto his bike, wet, cold, and right leg throbbing with pain. For the first time in years, he drives below the speed limit. 

It’s been almost 7 months now. Over half a year since he left the Garrison, and began his new life in the desert. He’s seen the summer come and go, embraced the cooler months with open arms. 

Although, he isn’t too happy now, with the crisp air only chilling his wet clothes to uncomfortable levels of cold. 

Keith stumbles into his shack, quickly stripping off his frigid clothes. He near collapses on the bed, pulling the thick comforter around his shoulders as he inspects his injured leg. 

The worst of the swelling is at the ankle, which makes sense. He twisted it by the river bed, foot caught in a rock, which sent him tumbling downstream. The damage to his knee isn’t far behind, though. He’d landed on it, _hard_ , while trying futilely to catch himself. 

He slowly stretches his leg out, testing the soreness. Well, it isn’t broken. But it’s going to leave one nasty bruise. 

Keith shivers and draws the blanket tighter. He contemplates firing up the heater, but that requires _moving_. His earlier struggle in the river has left him feeling absolutely drained. 

So, he lies back, and lets sleep overtake him. 

 

 

It’s the cold that wakes him up. The cold and the pain. 

Keith winces as he sits up, throwing the heavy blanket off. His leg is a mottling of red swelling and darkening bruises. Keith shivers and moans miserably. 

The sun is setting and temperatures continue to drop. Keith needs to get up and start his heater now if he wants his house to get any sort of lasting warmth. 

Then an idea strikes him, one that has him smiling through the pain. 

Gathering his strength, Keith drags himself out of bed and pulls on some sweats and a jacket. He limps out to the storage room, quickly setting up the heater so he won’t freeze to death overnight. 

Then, he braces himself and clambers onto his hoverbike. 

Once on, he sighs and lets his leg relax. Slowly, he sets off into the canyons, careful not to jostle his leg too much. 

Keith’s always been a quick healer. He knows that a couple days of bed rest will have him feeling good as new. But even when injured, Keith isn’t good at sitting still. However, he knows one place that’ll both heal his body, and force him to relax. 

Strange lion markings aren’t the only thing he’s found in the desert. 

Keith pushes his bike over one final hill and drops into the valley below. An oasis of natural hot springs lay before him, clear pools of water steaming in the cold night. 

Keith parks his bike as close as he can, hopping off on one foot, the picture of awkward grace. He peels off his clothing, draping it on his bike, before quickly hobbling to the nearest hot spring. 

The first touch of freezing skin to boiling water has Keith’s body crawling with goosebumps. 

He sinks into the shallow pool, sighing as heat rushes to cradle every inch of him. He grits his teeth against the stinging burn, but it fades soon enough. All that’s left is bone melting comfort. 

The hot springs work miracles for all of Keith’s aches and pains. He makes it a point to come out here every few weeks, to force his body to rest. Otherwise, Keith will work himself to the brink of collapse. 

He’s always been that way, since he was a little kid. Never believing his body had limits; not accepting the truth when those limits made themselves dangerously clear. He’s always had amazing stamina and boundless energy, but every person has their breaking point. 

The sound of paws trotting towards him doesn’t surprise Keith anymore. He greets Metztli with a scratch behind her ear, and she settles down at the edge of the pool. She’s content to sit and watch him soak in the mineral water, and Keith lets himself fully relax. 

At some point, Keith had figured that Metztli wasn’t a regular coyote. It was very probably that she was mixed, more than likely with a domesticated dog. She was too quick to adjust to his company, he thinks. 

Either way, she’s been a wonderful companion. She’s with him more often than not these days; Keith has even gone so far as to let her sleep in his bed some night. She makes an extremely good space heater. 

Now, she sniffs curiously at the water, and Keith is tempted to pull her in. As he weighs the pros and cons of dealing with a drenched coyote, his hands move of their own volition. He grips the scruff of her neck and topples her into the hot spring. 

She flails about for a moment, orienting herself, and Keith laughs when she surfaces. Metztli might be a coyote, but she had a better disgruntled expressions than any human Keith’s ever seen. 

This happens every time. You would think by now she would know better, to not get so close to the edge. But, Keith thinks, Metztli secretly likes the water. Why else would she stay with him, letting him wash her clean of the desert dust?

“I’ve turned you into a spoiled brat, haven’t I?”

She snorts and nuzzles into his hand. He laughs. 

“Metztli, the most pampered coyote in all the Sonora.”

Keith continues his peaceful evening, warm in the mineral water, with Metztli by his side. Through the clouds of steam, thousands of stars are visible overhead. Keith watches them with a small smile. 

Shiro would love it here. 

The thought doesn’t bring him the same sadness it would have a few months ago. He doesn’t know when exactly, but somewhere along the way, Keith started making a list. A list of all the beautiful things in the desert he’d like to show Shiro one day. 

Somewhere along the way, Keith stopped thinking of Shiro as “gone forever.” Somewhere along the way, he started really believing he’d get Shiro back somehow. 

Maybe it was the intercepted Garrison transmissions. He’s been monitoring the signals for months, decoding and piecing a story together. 

Something happened at Kerberos, something beyond their wildest imaginations. Keith clings to that, mind running wild with possibilities. 

Maybe Shiro wasn’t killed. Just taken. Missing. If someone was missing, that meant someone could be _found._

__

__

Keith was going to find him. He didn’t know how, or when, but he’s never going to stop trying. Something told him not all was lost. He wants to listen to that something. 

So he does.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A shorter chapter than the rest. Like I said, the next few aren’t gonna be very long. Just small glimpses into Keith’s world. 
> 
> Pls ignore any mistakes or whatever. I didn’t rlly edit and I’ve had no WiFi for 3 days lol


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 6: horizon

Spring has come, and with it, a new sense of finality. The mornings are still cool, but Keith can feel the coming heat as the sun rises. He looks out over the horizon, watches as the sun paints the desert in vibrant hues of red and yellow. 

He swears the bluest skies appear on days like these. 

Keith takes one last drag of his cigarette before snuffing it out with the sole of his boot. His hoverbike is already loaded with supplies. He’s ready to spend another week in the canyons. 

He feels like he’s on the precipice of something. Keith swears the air is heavy with it. It’s time. 

He’s gonna find it. The missing piece. 

 

 

Keith isn’t the type to brag, but it wouldn’t be a lie to say he’s perfected the art of canyon diving. Pushing his hoverbike to top speeds, careening off the edge of taller and taller canyons; letting himself get closer and closer to the ground, before pushing the throttle and breaking the fall. 

The rush of adrenaline lifts his spirits every time. 

After his fill of joyriding, Keith pulls into a part of the canyon he hasn’t explored as thoroughly yet. As he touches down and as he runs a hand over red rock, he can feel it pulsing. 

He doesn’t find it that day. Or the next. But Keith expects as much. The desert is capricious like that. You could say that it’s finally demanded Keith learn to be... _patient._

__

__

The energy that guides him is taunting, teasing. Keith knows how to play this game now. So he pays no mind to the number of nights he sleeps under the stars. Pays no mind as his supplies slowly, but surely, dwindle. 

Eight days in the canyons, he finally finds it. 

A cave, deep in the canyons, covered in strange markings. Keith takes care in snapping pics of every section, marking each Polaroid in pen so he doesn’t confuse the pieces later. Deeper and deeper into the cave he goes, reading the same story of a blue lion. 

Months of study and discovery made reading the petroglyphs second nature by now. Keith’s pieced together a whole story, spanning across numerous caves throughout the canyon. 

A tale about a massive war, a conquest, spanning countless generations. About the lion’s escape and subsequent hiding, lying in wait for a rider to awaken it. 

Whether the blue lion is a metaphor or a literal blue lion, Keith still can’t be sure. Petroglyphs are tricky like that. Metaphorical or not, all the stories had been leading up to some moment. 

The missing piece Keith has been looking for. 

Keith shines his light on the back wall of the cave. Intricate carvings cover it from head to toe. He smiles. 

He’s found it. 

 

 

Keith carefully pins up the final polaroids on his board and steps back. The final mural in that cave is telling him something. He just needs a moment to figure out what. 

To the untrained eye, perhaps the scene would seem redundant. An object, falling from the sky, and crash landing on earth. It’s the same way all these stories start. 

The story of the mysterious blue lion. 

But it isn’t the same. Keith knows it isn’t. 

“Where is it... come on...”

There. A time indicator. Well, at least Keith assumes it is. It’s a symbol, one that Keith doesn’t know the exact meaning of. But it’s present in every mural he’s uncovered. 

A constant. Until it isn’t. 

At first, Keith assumed it was a signature of sorts. Maybe the name of whoever it was that carved these markings. But then the symbol changed, but the _handwriting_ didn’t. 

That is to say: the symbol changed its form, but it was obvious that the petroglyphs were carved by the same person. And that’s when Keith caught on, that it was a marker for time. 

To be more specific, it separates the past, present and future. 

The dawn of the Great War, the landing of the lion on earth: they’re indicated to have taken place in the past. 

Further depictions of the Great War have a different symbol, which Keith deduced means it’s taking place in the present. A war, happening who knows where... he constantly wonders if it has anything to do with why the Kerberos crew disappeared. 

Then, there’s the symbol for the future. Of things yet to come. 

Keith has only seen it once. On the mural that showed him that the blue lion is sleeping, waiting for its future rider. That same symbol is here, now, changing the entire meaning of the markings Keith just found. 

This isn’t the story of the blue lion falling to earth. This is the story of something to come. 

“Okay. Great. So... how do I know when it’s coming?”

Keith sighs and sits heavily on the coffee table. There’s an answer here. It’s just gonna take him a minute to find it. 

He doesn’t know how long he sits there, staring at the pictures, trying to find a pattern. It must be a few hours, because Metztli is scratching at his door. He blearily moves to open the door, not paying mind as she cozies herself up on the couch. 

He thinks back to the night he stayed up, recounting all the constellations to her. 

“Constellations... Metztli you’re a genius!”

Keith kisses the top of her head and heads back to the board. Metztli gives him a low whine in response. Spoiled dog. 

He quickly takes down all the pictures from the newest mural and arranges them on the floor. Ursa Major. Orion’s Belt. One by one, he identifies the crude renditions of various constellations. 

Keith knows exactly what to do next. 

He hurries to the bookshelf, pulling out an almanac of the night sky. It was a gift, from Shiro, after completing his first year at the Garrison. It contained a daily account of which constellations were visible in the night sky. 

Keith flips through the pages, looking for the timeframes where the constellations hang overhead just right. 

“Still not specific enough...”

Keith racks his brain, staring at the photos again. _Keep looking, keep looking..._

__

__

“Moon cycles.”

He breathes the answer, eyes scouring the murals. There, in a corner, is a depiction of the moon. A full moon. Keith goes back to the almanac, with his narrowed down options. He finds it. 

“One month.”

He has one month to prepare for the fight of his life. Whatever it is that’s going to fall from the sky, the Garrison is going to be all over it. If he doesn’t get to it first, then he needs to be prepared to steal it away. 

Everything... everything until now has been for this moment. All the pain, the loneliness, the _sunburn_. It’s all been so he could find this. 

Whatever this was, it’s bigger than him. Keith finds a sort of peace in that. But until then, Keith has work to do. 

So, he gets started.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ONE MORE CHAPTER TO GO!! I have a very intricate HC about how the blue lion made the markings and how it predicted Shiro’s landing and all that good stuff but I’ll probs never elaborate on it lol. Just know that I think the blue lion kinda...made the markings as Keith went....live updates and whatnot....leading Keith to learn more and more...


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 7: free day

“So, this is it…”

Keith presents his little desert home with a subdued wave of his arm. He knows it doesn’t look like much, especially after being abandoned _again._ But the sight of it evokes an emotion in him, and he struggles to keep a neutral expression. 

Krolia steps forward first. Her eyes have that same sad, wistful expression his dad had, whenever he looked at the night sky. After spending two years learning the woman that is his mother, Keith finally understands that expression. 

“The house really is gone.”

It’s not a question, just a confirmation. Keith hums. The fire that took down the main house… that took dad… it had been one of their shared visions in the quantum abyss. 

It had been hard for Krolia to see. Harder still for Keith. He hadn’t realized at the time, how many childhood memories he kept so securely tucked away. 

“Wanna go inside?” Keith asks. Krolia nods. 

They move forward, shadows long in the light of the setting sun. The rest of the team is still back at the Garrison. Making plans for a new castle ship, arguing about space wars, making phone calls to family. 

Keith is lucky, in that sense. That all his family is already here. 

Krolia opens the door and steps inside. Keith lingers by the porch for a bit. His space wolf pauses, staring up at him questioning. Keith smiles down at her. Clever girl. 

“Go ahead Xitlaly. Go with her.”

Xitlaly tilts her head then disappears, probably rematerializing by Krolia. Keith steps up on the porch and turns around. The red sand of the desert is washed in the softest glow. Warmth radiates still from the heated earth, but not enough to be stifling. 

His eyes trail over to a figure, still standing a distance away. 

“Shiro, do you want to come inside?”

The man turns around, distant eyes focusing on the present. He gives Keith a soft smile, one he works hard to return. The months it had taken them to reach earth allowed them time. To heal, to talk. But still, so many things left unsaid. 

But this? This Keith understands. He knows the answer before Shiro even opens his mouth. 

“I think I’ll stay out here. It’s nice to feel the sunlight.”

Keith smiles and nods. But then he hesitates. He wants to stay outside with Shiro, offer the silent support he needs. But there’s something else he wants… no, _needs_ to do. 

“I’ll be back in a bit,” Keith smiles, walking into the house, “don’t disappear on me again.”

Shiro’s chuckle is soft yet genuine. Keith takes comfort in that and slips into the house. 

His mom is sitting on the couch, staring at the bookshelf. Now and then, she traces her fingers over a book, wiping away dust. Keith knows every book she touches belonged to Dad. He did the same thing. With dad’s books… with Shiro’s books. 

But her sadness is different. Keith got Shiro back. He tore apart time and space itself, but Keith _got him back_. There was no getting dad back. 

Krolia looks up from the books. They share a quiet glance. She nods and he leaves her be. 

Keith walks into his bedroom. Everything is still as he left it. Bed slightly unmade, from when Shiro last slept in it. His closet opened and emptied, from when he dug out his dad's old clothes for Shiro to wear. 

He walks over to the night stand and opens the drawer. Takes out all the scraps of papers and maps and pictures. Digs out his old notebook, the one with Shiro’s note. 

Keith never asked Shiro about it. It didn’t feel right. Never the right place or time, in space, in a war. How could he? He’d just been so happy to have his friend back. But now… 

He tucks the notebook into his satchel along with a few other things. When Keith peeks out the window, he’s pleased to see the last rays of sun fading behind the mountains. Soon, the air will cool and the spring night will bring a slight chill. 

Perfect. 

When Keith passes through the living room again, Krolia has a book open on her lap. Xitlaly is curled up on her side, though she looks up curiously as Keith walks by. 

“I’m going out for a bit. Will you be alright here?”

Krolia’s an adult, a warrior, his _mother_ , but Keith still feels the need to ask. It can be heavy sometimes, the weight of loneliness. Keith is still learning to carry it. 

Keith is learning that, maybe, one never does get used to carrying it. 

“I’ll be fine Keith. Thank you,” Krolia answers with a kind smile and Keith knows she appreciates the gesture. 

Out on the porch, Keith sees that Shiro is still right where he left him. Not that he really thought Shiro would disappear again, but the sight brings him a sense of relief. 

He doesn’t approach the man just yet. Instead, he goes to the storage garage, happy to see the lock still intact. Nobody raided his shack, which means…

“Hello cherry bomb.”

Keith smiles wide at the sight of his red hoverbike. Still in pristine condition, if not covered in just a bit too much dust. Nothing that a fast ride through the desert couldn’t fix. 

He starts her up, engine purring under him like a dream. Well, almost. A few sputters here and there getting started. He’ll need to do some maintenance work on her when he gets back. But for now, Keith knows she’ll make the trip he wants. 

Shiro looks up in surprise when Keith drives by, but it’s quickly replaced by a giddy smile. 

“Hop on. I wanna show you something.”

Shiro climbs up with some help. He’s had to relearn how to do a lot of things, with only one arm. Despite offers from Pidge and the Olkarion, Shiro decided to remain cybernetics free for a while. No matter what he decided, Keith would support him, wholeheartedly. 

Once sure Shiro’s grip is secure, Keith revs the engine and takes off. 

The air feels good, whipping around them, through them. Keith drives the way he always has: _fast_. Shiro loves it, by the way he’s laughing in Keith’s ear. Shiro’s always loved when Keith drove, like he was born to do it. 

“Hang on!”

Keith sets up for a cliff dive. He doesn’t hold back just because Shiro’s one arm short. The one that curls around his waist is firm, strong; Keith knows Shiro can handle it. 

They fly, together. Off the edge of a cliff. Down to the canyons below. Keith fires the thrusters seconds before they crash, and they zoom through the desert. 

 

 

“Can I open my eyes yet?”

“No,” Keith laughs, carefully guiding Shiro through the canyons. “You just gotta trust me.”

“I’ll always trust you, Keith.”

Shiro’s reply is soft, genuine. Keith lets out a huff, glad Shiro’s eyes are closed so he can’t see the red on his cheeks. 

They walk in silence for several minutes. The quiet is comfortable between them, but Keith can’t help but feel the weight of things to come. He pushes the thought back, focuses on the _now._

__

__

He takes a final turn around a boulder and stops. 

“Okay, open your eyes.”

Before them lies the natural hot springs, steam rising and swirling in the cool night air. Keith watches as Shiro takes in the sight, a bright smile slowly overtaking his features. 

“It’s like an onsen, but desert style.”

Shiro’s got a delighted glimmer in his eye. Keith’s heart swells, and he smiles back. 

“Yeah, I guess it is.”

“How did you find this place?”

Keith shrugs. “I found lots of cool stuff while following the blue lion’s energy.”

Shiro turns to him with a soft smile. “You’ll show them to me, right?”

“Of course I will.”

They stare each other a bit too long, the moment a bit too intimate, but it’s not the first time they have. Keith looks away first, determined not to let things linger, unresolved. He walks to the nearest pool and takes off his satchel. 

“Well, what’re you waiting for? Let’s get in.”

Shiro makes a strange sound as Keith takes off his shirt. Keith turns, staring at him curiously. Shiro pointedly looks away. Keith bites back a smile and continues stripping. 

“I brought towels, if that’s what you’re worried about,” Keith adds, once he’s in the water and Shiro is still standing, fully clothed. 

Shiro finally looks in Keith’s direction and sighs. 

“Okay, give me a minute.”

Keith smiles at the way Shiro turns around, bashful about undressing. As if they haven’t done so dozens of times, at the Garrison, in the castle. But still, as Shiro reaches for his pants, Keith looks away. 

Suddenly, he’s finding a certain rock formation very, _very_ interesting. 

He doesn’t look back until he hears the sound of water sloshing, and Shiro’s satisfied sigh. Keith lets himself relax in the warm water and Shiro does the same. 

Up above them, thousands of stars glitter. Shiro is fixated on them, and Keith is fixated on Shiro. 

Guess some things never change. 

But Keith wants them to. That’s why he reaches into his satchel, digging out the notebook he’d stashed between the towels. Shiro looks away from the sky, distracted from his stargazing by Keith wading closer. 

His eyes trail down, lock onto the notebook curiously, then he freezes. 

Keith’s heart feels lodged in his throat as he sits down, close enough to feel Shiro’s warmth. To feel all the places they’re not touching. 

Ever so slowly, he opens the notebook and flips to a page in the back. A page he’s read too many times during his year in the desert. 

Shiro’s eyes don’t leave him the entire time. 

“Shiro… what was it you wanted to tell me?”

Keith holds out the notebook, flipped open to the message in Shiro’s scrawl. Shiro reaches out to it, but doesn’t touch it. Just stares, storm gray eyes blown wide. Keith struggles to breathe normally. 

“You kept this?”

Shiro’s voice is small in the heavy quiet. Keith nearly misses it. But he can’t miss the look of sadness, of longing in Shiro’s eyes. 

Those Garrison days feel like a lifetime ago. 

“Of course I did. But it never felt like the right time to ask.”

Shiro stares at him with a strange intensity. Keith doesn’t flinch and stares right back. There’s an energy around them, between them, drawing him closer. It’s always been drawing him closer. 

“Keith, I…” Shiro breaks off with a rueful smile. “It’s so weird, being knocked back into the headspace when I wrote that. Before all _this_ happened.”

This, meaning the war. This, meaning the disappearance, the captivity, the fighting, the _loss_. Keith knows exactly what he means. He scoots closer. 

“What I’d wanted to say,” Shiro pauses, eyes steeled with resolve, “What I still want to say, is that I’m pretty sure that somewhere along the way, I’ve fallen in love with you.”

And Keith knows. He knows that this is what Shiro would say. That doesn’t mean the confession doesn’t still rob the breath from his lungs. Keith can feel his heart crawling up his throat again. He fights it down, so he can respond. 

“I told you once, and I’ll tell you again. I love you, Shiro. I always have.”

And Shiro looks at him, awestruck, as if he never expected this scene to play out. As if he couldn’t imagine Keith would respond in like. Shiro stares at him and Keith lets him, smiling as the man processes the words. 

“Keith, I… are you sure? I mean, I know you said, but I thought you meant—”

Keith presses forward, until their lips are only a breath apart. He looks up at Shiro, how his eyes widen, how his hair glows in the moon. Like starlight. Keith smiles as he speaks. 

“Is this okay?”

Shiro nods and Keith closes the gap. 

 

 

They walk back towards the shack, hand in hand. Shiro has the dopiest smile on his face, and Keith is sure he looks the same. But they can’t help it. This has been a long time coming. 

Xitlaly must hear their approach, because she materializes right on top of him. Keith topples under her weight, dragging Shiro down with him. He laughs as the cosmic wolf licks his face, then Shiro’s. 

Krolia watches from the porch with a fond smile. Keith knows that she knows everything. She’s wearing casual clothes now. The old red tank top he remembers from their visions. He smiles at her. 

A howl in the distance catches their attention. Keith stands up with a start, looking at the hills in the distance. There’s no way…

“Metztli!”

The gray coyote comes racing down the hill. Keith sprints to meet her. He lets her knock him down, lets her lick his face. She’s making these pitiful whining noises the whole time and he feels close to tears. 

“I missed you too, I know, I’m sorry,” Keith croons at her, scratching her neck, her ears, anything he can reach. 

Shiro walks up to him, helping him up. He looks a cross between fond and scandalized. 

“Keith, do you seriously have a pet coyote?”

Keith laughs, nodding. Shiro joins him, the mirth contagious. They laugh and laugh, surely looking a bit crazed. But it feels good to laugh. To have joy. To have love. 

In a desert where Keith felt the deepest of loneliness, he’ll now feel the heights of happiness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a quick post s6 chapter!! Resolved a few things I guess. Came around full circle. If the pacing feels a little rushed....well that’s valid since I kinda wrote this chapter in a rush. But I think it got across what I wanted to be said so I’ll be satisfied with it for now. 
> 
> Thanks so much to everyone who took the time to read this!! It was a challenge to write so much, so quickly, and to also explore one of my fave characters :—)

**Author's Note:**

> As always thanks for reading! HMU on tumblr @fratboyshiro and on Twitter @gayhura


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